


Invited to Die

by JazzRaft



Series: Dark at Night [15]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Fluff and Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-22
Updated: 2017-03-24
Packaged: 2018-09-19 03:07:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9415418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JazzRaft/pseuds/JazzRaft
Summary: How had he come to the point where his healthy respect for King Regis had twisted and shriveled down to nothing put pure, abject terror upon hearing the cold, callous sentence he’d been dreading for months?“How long have you been sleeping with my son?”





	1. The Trial

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on [tumblr](http://jazzraft.tumblr.com/post/156016241042/can-i-request-regis-finding-out-about-noctisnyx) for an anonymous request.

He’d been _so_ careful. Even Noctis, for all his recklessness, had been _so freaking careful_. Both of them knew the scandal which would ensue should they ever be found out. While it wasn’t enough to scare either of them into ceasing their illicit affair, it was enough to encourage the both of them to proceed with extreme caution. No one knew. Literally _no one_ , not even the prince’s most trusted confidantes, not even Nyx’s sworn brothers.

So, how the hell was he here, feeling like a standing corpse in the middle of the King’s throne room? How had he come to the point where his healthy respect for King Regis had twisted and shriveled down to nothing put pure, abject terror upon hearing the cold, callous sentence he’d been dreading for months?

“How long have you been sleeping with my son?”

It was hilarious, really, how quickly the veneer of Nyx’s professionalism had waned the second the king spoke. He didn’t know what he’d been expecting when he was called to a private audience with his liege lord… which was entirely stupid of him once he thought back on it, because what else could it have possibly been for Regis to ask to see one specific glaive, separate from all the rest? One specific glaive that just so happened to be screwing his son behind his back? _Idiot_.

Regis sat silently upon the throne, seeming like a thousand miles above Nyx, like a god prepared to smite him from the heavens with his scorn. He was waiting for something, Nyx realized, belatedly. A denial, probably, which is what Nyx so badly wanted to give, but knew it was pointless. If the King wasn’t certain before he’d called Nyx in, the look on Nyx’s face would have been enough to convince him. When he tried to open his mouth, it felt stuffed full of cotton and his jaw locked up. It took him a few tries before he could finally find his voice.

“Four months, sir,” he answered, sounding as dry as crumbling paper.

“Not even going to try denying it? I’m almost impressed.”

Regis arched a brow down at him, fingers drumming on the arm of the throne. No doubt contemplating which way he’d prefer to kill him. Messily, Nyx was guessing. Not that it felt like there was any blood left in him to make a mess with. He could feel a shiver inside his very bones that he could just barely keep contained by staying in the stance the glaive had constructed for him. He didn’t know if continuing to stand at attention was considered mocking in this situation, but it made him feel as safe as he was going to feel beneath the King’s wrath.

The scariest thing about it was that it was so _quiet_. When Regis was angry, he didn’t yell. He talked. Very slowly, very deliberately, putting a promise behind each and every word. A promise of unending suffering, and one he was more than capable of keeping. There was nothing empty about Regis’s fury. It was calculated, tailoring punishments to fit each crime to perfect irony. Nyx had originally feared it might have been his head the King would lop off. Now, he was afraid it might be something else.

“Are you unaware that it is forbidden for a subordinate of the royal bloodline to seek romantic relations with any member of said bloodline?” Regis asked, mildly.

“No, sir, I’m not unaware.”

“So, it’s out of spite rather than ignorance that you’ve chosen to ignore this law?”

“N-No, sir.”

“No?” Regis leaned forward on the throne, his voice falling very low in a challenge. “Pray, tell me why, then.”

 _Gods_ , he wished he would just kill him and get it over with. The waiting was torture, but he supposed that was the point. He’d said it from the very start: it would be a slow and painful death for him if the King ever found out and yes, it was _agony_. Regis would force him to say it all, dissecting every last piece out of him to take and twist and shame him for. And Nyx would have no choice but to give them all to him. He was the King.

“I, uh…” It felt bizarre to say it to anybody else but Noctis. The reason behind it all was something between the two of them. Something precious and secret and immortal only if it stayed secret.

“Is it out of gain, then?” Regis questioned him, voice slowly rising as he spoke. “Did you think you could gain my son’s trust, use him and manipulate him once it suited you? Blackmail him? Take advantage and further your own ambitions? Is it just so you can boast that you’ve claimed a place in the Chosen King’s bed?”

“It’s none of that!” Nyx shouted. “It’s because I’m in love with your son! So much that I couldn’t give less of a shit about the rules. So much that I don’t regret a single second of it, no matter what my punishment is for it now. I’d do it all over again exactly the same. _Sir_.”

There was a second where Nyx felt proud of himself. No matter how scared he was, he wasn’t ashamed and he truly didn’t regret it. The only thing he regretted was that he wouldn’t get to keep it, once he was more than likely publicly executed for his insolence and forever dishonored in the annals of Lucian history as the glaive that couldn’t keep it in his pants. He could see that future coming faster than he’d been prepared for in the twitch around Regis’s mouth.

The doors moaned open behind Nyx, shifting the King’s focus from immediately murdering him on his shiny throne room floor. “Ah,” he said, pulling himself up to his feet. “Here comes your champion. No doubt to plead for your life.”

Nyx was almost afraid to make eye contact with Noctis, skidding up next to him, out of breath. He’d pushed his luck with that last “sir” and he was sure that if he made one wrong glance at the prince now, he’d be a gory glob of human pulp in an instant. If he was going to die a horrible death, he really didn’t want Noctis to be around to see it.

“I take full responsibility,” Noctis was saying. “It’s not his fault, I-I ordered him into it…”

Aw. Sweet that he thought even in a lie he could order Nyx to do anything. The hilarity of that almost made him smile, if not for the desperation in the prince’s voice and the severity of the situation. The King was hobbling down the stairs, but there was nothing frail about his descent. Even with a cane and a limp, Nyx was just as convinced of his imminent demise as he would be facing a tonberry in a dark alley.

“Don’t insult my intelligence, Noctis,” Regis said, wearily. “Nor the honesty of your paramour here. He’s been _very_ forthcoming with the nature of your little ‘activities.’”

Noctis looked between the two of them in disbelief. Disbelief that Nyx hadn’t tried to buy himself more time with some sort of denial. Disbelief that his father was actually doing this, that he’d actually found out in the first place. He floundered for a minute, searching the floor for some kind of excuse, something he could use to get them out of this. But all he could think to do was beg, hoping beyond hope that he could appeal to his father beneath the King.

“Dad, I know you’re angry…”

“Angry?” Regis laughed harshly, standing over the two of them now. “I am very much more than angry, Noctis. I’m disappointed.”

Noctis flinched back as if Regis had hit him, looking like his heart was about to break. And if Regis was angry, it was nothing compared to how angry that made Nyx feel. He stepped forward, made to object and defend Noctis like he swore he always would, but the end of Regis’s cane came up to press against his chest, tapping accusingly with each word Regis said next.

“Which is why,” he hissed, and oh gods here it comes –

“…effectively immediately” – the death sentence, yup, he knew it was coming, just gotta take it -

“…you” – are gonna die, are gonna brutally, horrifically die in front of everyone you know and love –

“…are invited to dinner. Saturday night at five o’ clock, sharp. Do be prompt, Sir Ulric.”

Nyx had squeezed his eyes shut in a futile attempt to defend himself from the horrors that were about to befall him, which is why he was certain it was his mind fabricating a kinder ending to his life than whatever judgment had been passed down in reality. When he cracked his eyes open though, the King was grinning from ear to ear and all the quiet malice in his face had vanished.

“If only I could record the expressions of your faces right now,” he chuckled. “I could put it online, make it one of those – what do you call it – a me-me?”

Noctis was just as confounded into motionlessness as Nyx was. A small comfort that he wasn’t the only one totally confused and still completely terrified out of his mind.

“There is some truth to what I said, though,” Regis told Noctis. “I _am_ disappointed that you didn’t tell me about this sooner. Of all the people in the world you should be able to tell that you’re dating a strapping young member of the Kingsglaive, I’m disappointed that you felt you couldn’t tell me. But I suppose that’s my own fault, isn’t it?”

Regis sighed and Noctis was too stunned to the spot to contradict him. The King glanced between the two of them and snorted in laughter.

“Oh dear, I’m afraid I’ve quite traumatized the both of you. In all fairness, you did owe me the ‘harm my son and I’ll kill you’ speech. Saturday. Five,” he said to Nyx. “And I’ll give you the real one.”

Nyx knees almost buckled and he nearly face-planted into the floor right there. _You mean that wasn’t real enough?_ “I am thoroughly impressed with how you’ve managed to avoid the press with this though,” Regis went on to Noctis. “Masterful deception, son. But I can’t regale your boyfriend with embarrassing stories of your childhood if I don’t know you have a boyfriend to begin with.”

That seemed to snap Noctis out of his stalled state. He grimaced at his father, giving a despairing, “Seriously?” Regis gave him a consoling pat on the shoulder, but didn’t retract the implication in his statement.

“You be sure to accompany him for dinner,” he told him, heading off to leave the room. “You both have a lot to catch me up on. And I’m owed a lot more protective dad moments that you’ve deprived me of these past months. Don’t be late.”

And just like that, he was out the door, leaving the two of them in the vaulted chamber. It was a long moment before Nyx suddenly let out a gasp, startling Noctis. He hadn’t realized that he hadn’t been breathing and doubled over with a hand to his chest.

“I’m having a heart attack,” he wheezed. “What the _fuck_ man?”

If Noctis wasn’t there to hold him up and rub his back and apologize profusely, Nyx was sure he would have passed out. He still wasn’t entirely sure that he wouldn’t.


	2. The Dinner

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted on [tumblr](http://jazzraft.tumblr.com/post/156965913612/okay-you-really-need-to-write-a-sequel-about-the) by popular demand!

When in the midst of a crisis, one called Crowe.

One did not call Libertus, one’s best friend in the whole wide world, because Libertus was usually the one having the crisis and Nyx was usually the one dealing with said crisis.

So, on a weekend, the night of the dinner date with one’s boyfriend and one’s boyfriend’s sovereign father, one called Crowe. It took a single text – “SOS. Dinner with papabae.” – and ten minutes before she knocked thrice on his door and marched inside his closet with hardly half of a “hello.” 

If he hadn’t been pacing his apartment in a blind panic, Nyx might have questioned Crowe’s intimate familiarity with his wardrobe as she picked through his clothes. Like she knew exactly what she was looking for, but he’d removed it from its proper place and the organization of his own closet was an inconvenience to her. He was too frantic to notice, instead ranting for the whole two hour process before he was supposed to leave. Crowe wordlessly threw an outfit at him and steered him into the bathroom to start.

“Shower. Teeth and hair. Dress. Breathe in threes. Inhale…”

She provided a helpful example, pulling air in through her nose, counting to three, and letting it out through her mouth, counting to three, and starting again. She kept doing that until he mimed the rhythm, taking it with him into the shower. When he emerged, he was still panicking.

Crowe helped him dry his hair and slip into a blazer he didn’t remember ever owning while he continued to list all the different ways he was going to die tonight. He almost let it slip who exactly he was attending dinner with – although he supposed if the King knew, by extension, everyone knew. Not that that made sense, but nothing really was inside of Nyx’s head.

“If he didn’t kill you the first time you met, I’m sure he won’t kill you now,” Crowe assured him. “Just be your usual, charming self and you’ll be fine. Keep how much sex you’re having to yourself, even if Dad asks. You _are_ allowed to kiss your boy hello and goodbye, it’ll actually prove a little bit of your commitment to the relationship. Don’t like, slobber or anything, but I promise, it’s allowed. _Don’t_ talk politics. Find a shared interest if you can. If all else fails, your shared interest is his son. Overall, just be normal Nyx. It’ll only be awkward if you make it.”

With that, she slapped him in the face, told him to “snap his ass out of it,” and threw him out the door.

He opted to walk to the Citadel with the vain hope that the evening air might help settle his nerves. He gave himself a pep talk with an inner voice that sounded suspiciously like Crowe’s, reminding him that he had seen scarier shit than this out on the battlefield. He’d faced down daemons that were three stories tall and lived to tell the tale. He’d leapt down endless pits only to warp right back out of them. He set forests on fire, pulled bleeding soldiers to medics, crossed blades with assassins in the night.

He was Nyx fucking Ulric, damnit!

He could handle dinner with King Regis.

Security didn’t look twice as him as he passed through all the checkpoints, flashing his ID with more confidence than he was feeling about heading to the king’s private dining room. He kept his eyes glued to his watch as he traversed the halls, close to sprinting so he could make it at least five minutes early. Good impressions. Not advice he’d needed from Crowe to know.

Noctis was already there when he entered the giant, ornate room. The prince was leaning against one of the dining chairs, arms crossed and knee bobbing anxiously, eyes on nothing in particular until Nyx appeared. He flew across the room and hugged him.

“Oh, gods, is it really gonna be that bad?” Nyx joked – only by half.

“What? Oh, uh, no…” Noctis drew away, blinking and shaking his head. “I mean. I dunno. It’s just dinner, right? How bad can it be? Just, um… _please_ don’t think any less of me if he starts in on the embarrassing kiddie stories he promised, okay?”

Nyx laughed in disbelief. “Of all the things to be worried about… Nothing could ever make me think less of you, little king.”

He kissed his forehead. It was easier for his anxieties to pound a little less loudly in his skull when he was faced with Noctis’s. It was a horrible thought, but he was almost _relieved_ that Noctis was just as nervous as he was. If Noctis was nervous, then Nyx had to protect him, and if Nyx had to protect him, he couldn’t afford to be nervous himself.

“I just worry about what His Majesty is going to think of me dating you now that he’s had time to remember that I’m not exactly his employee of the year, for any year, ever.”

“Not the type of guy I should be proud to take home to the parents?” Noctis teased.

“Total deadbeat.”

Noctis laughed and that made things a little bit easier. Nyx knew that his ultimate goal tonight should be to impress Regis, but as the slow crawl of an impending panic attack had evidenced, he wasn’t even remotely capable of handling that. Keeping Noctis happy… he thought he had higher chances of meeting that goal, at least.

“Ah, excellent! Right on time, Sir Ulric.”

Regis shuffled into the room. It took all of Nyx’s strength – and Crowe’s very loud voice in the back of his head – to fight the instinct to put a liberal amount of distance between himself and Noctis when the King arrived. He was glad that he didn’t, because that gave Noctis a second to give his hand an encouraging squeeze and a quick kiss on the cheek that gave Nyx a renewed vigor to be at the top of his game.

_Usual, charming self._

He remembered to bow and remembered all the appropriate honorifics – remembered everything his whole job was based around, thank Ramuh. He waited for the royals to sit before seating himself – mercifully not so far away from Noctis that he couldn’t bump his knee with his under the table. The hardest part would be wading through the small talk before dinner was served.

A servant ghosted by the table, pouring water, and Nyx suddenly felt entirely too self-conscious. What _the hell_ was he doing here? Having dinner with the King and his son, where a hundred hands were going to pass through, wondering as to why a single glaive was breaking bread with the royal family? If the whole world didn’t know about him and Noctis yet, they definitely would if the serving staff started gossiping. No, Regis wasn’t about to let that happen… was he?

Nyx avoided eye contact with the servant and was rigidly silent until they left the room, terrified of saying something that might imply why exactly he’d been invited to the King’s table. If he was terrified of being careful, Regis was not. The second the servant left, the King took a sip of his water, and spoke.

“So, four months is a long while. I do hope you’ve been practicing safe sex.”

Noctis choked loudly on a mouthful of water, pounding his chest and gagging.

If Nyx had gained even an iota of confidence for surviving the night, it drained out of him in one, bloodless gush. He broke out into a cold sweat, hands curling into his knees, and eyes staring straight forward, unable to tear away from Regis’s probing gaze. His thoughts devolved into the lengthy, incoherent ravings of a madman.

_Remember what Crowe said. Crowe said don’t talk about sex so, just don’t talk about sex. She knows this shit, no, wait, how the fuck do I know if she knows? Does Crowe even date? Has Crowe ever “met the parents?” Who even is Crowe!? Shit, he wants me to say something. Crap, how do I not say something? I can’t say nothing! I should just say “yes,” right? No, wait, it’s a trap. That would imply we’re having a lot of sex. Is that bad? Yeah, that’s really bad. But, I can’t not say no, ‘cause that’s even worse and oh my gods this is where he kills me for real. He’s not joking this time, is he? …Is he??_

“What the hell, Dad?” Noctis sputtered, his face as red as the ball on a moogle’s antenna.

“It’s a perfectly reasonable question, we’re all adults here,” Regis stated with an innocent shrug. “Your health is my top priority, after all.”

“Yeah, when flu season rolls around maybe!”

“You’re protesting a great deal, my son. I’m inclined to believe it means you’re being reckless with your body, as always.”

“Please stop talking,” Noctis whined, propping his elbows on the table and covering his face with his hands.

Regis chuckled like the day he hadn’t killed Nyx and traumatized the both of them with the act that he might. Nyx had no idea if he should interpret it as teasing or diabolical.

“Well, at least he inherited my love of privacy,” Regis was saying to him. “All jokes aside, come, tell me how you two came to know each other, at least.”

Nyx swallowed his relief that he didn’t have to _actually_ respond to the sex question. The King had quite the devastatingly inappropriate sense of humor. Not what Nyx was expecting from a man of such renown.

He restrained himself from letting it torment his dinner-mates too much throughout the night. Nyx tentatively recounted the tale of his first fully verbalized interaction with Noctis that extended beyond “evening, Your Highness” and “at ease, glaive” as the extent of their conversation. That led to a sophisticated discussion about the mechanics of warping and the mutually maligned sharing of lapses into stasis during unfortunate situations. Which led to amiable laughter across the table while dinner was set upon it.

With a little wine and some roast in his stomach, Nyx was finally starting to feel a little at ease around the King. It helped that Noctis seemed more comfortable as the night went on. At one point during one of Regis’s long summations of an incident in his youth involving Cor and a cactuar, Noctis brushed Nyx’s knee under the table and he gave him a small, thankful smile for indulging his father. And that made all of the suffering worth it.

As the night dwindled on after dinner, Noctis excused himself for the restroom and Nyx felt safe enough not to cling to him for dear life and beg him not to leave him alone. Nyx washed down the last few drops of his wine, stuffed with the finest meal he’d had in all of his life and actually thanking the Six for blessing him with it.

“Will you be needing a ride home?” Regis asked. “I can have a valet meet you at the gates so you don’t have to drive.”

“Appreciate the offer, but it’s not necessary. I’m a fan of walking. Gonna need to in order to work off all of that,” he said, nodding at his empty plate.

Regis smiled before lapsing into quiet, observing Nyx across the table. The look made Nyx shift in his chair so he was sitting up straight, hearing an unspoken command for his attention in the silence.

“I remember mentioning that I would give you a true warning about what should become of you if you betray Noct’s trust,” Regis said, evenly. “To be honest with you Sir Ulric, I don’t think that any sort of punishment I would come up with would suit whatever fates you’ve imagined for yourself. I wonder, why are you so quick to assume violence will befall you in the event my son is hurt by you?”

There was no underlying mischief to the question this time. Not that Nyx would be able to tell if there was. It was a practical, curious question, and there was a test behind it, that much Nyx could discern. It took him a moment to think past the surface of his panic in the face of the King’s knowledge of his relationship with Noctis to come up with the right answer. An answer that he hadn’t even known himself was the root to his fear of Regis.

“Because anything less would be a punishment unbefitting for the crime of hurting your son.”

Regis scrutinized him for a long moment and Nyx scrutinized himself. Should he ever hurt Noctis, he wouldn’t want to live with himself afterwards. Imagining what the King would do to him was the least of what he would deserve.

“Somehow, I can’t envision us ever having to come to such measures.”

Regis’s smile was kind, not unlike his son’s. It was trusting and full of a faith in Nyx that the glaive was always uncertain he was worth. Nevertheless, as Noctis returned and Nyx’s chest was warmed just by the sight of him, he couldn’t help but smile back in assurance that the King’s faith was well placed.

“Yeah, I don’t think we’re ever gonna have that problem either.”


	3. process of elimination

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Regis makes an observation that lends to a discovery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted on [tumblr](http://jazzraft.tumblr.com/post/157719095517/so-youre-story-about-the-dinner-with-regis-was) for an anonymous request.

It started as an observation.

Regis’s main regret in life was not being the paragon of fatherhood his son had deserved to have during his childhood. There were days when he felt so separate from Noctis that he might as well not have been his son at all. There were things Noctis knew that Regis was certain he’d never taught him, and there was always a tiny twinge of envy in his chest towards whoever had shared whatever lesson of life that he had not been available to teach himself.

Then there were the late nights, well after the Council had released Regis from the cage of their chamber and Noctis was kept awake by his nightmares – another failure Regis hated himself for. Those were the nights, even though they were both so bone-tired to be halfway delirious, where all of the wasted years seemed to shrink, and he knew his son as if he’d always been there to raise him.

It was on one of these nights where Regis first formed his theory.

Noctis was smiling at the fire burning in the king’s study, his legs tucked beneath him on the plush chair and his hand curled against his cheek where he rested his head. His eyes were hooded and distant, a distracted look that didn’t have the bored and vacant tone Regis had grown used to seeing. There was a tenderness to his stare, as if the flames in the hearth assailed him with some kind of nostalgia that Regis couldn’t connect to any memory. The more likely culprit, he assumed, was in the text message Noctis had replied to just before settling into that dreamy grin.

“Something on your mind?” Regis put out, lightly testing the reaction he got for it.

Noctis blinked as if coming out of a trance, looking at his father as if he’d forgotten that he was there. Regis was certain that he truly had. Noctis stared, stalled for a response, before throwing out his threadbare blanket statement to cover for himself.

“Nothing, sorry. Just a little tired.”

Noctis excused himself to his quarters in order to catch whatever sleep was left of the night before he would inevitably expand it well into the morning. After he departed, Regis collected his observations and formed a hypothesis.

His son had been tense upon entering the study, shoulders heavy and eyes bloodshot from the intensity of his dreams. While Regis liked to think half of the slow release of tension from Noctis could be attributed to Regis’s back-handed comments about the Council his son so loathed, the other half Regis conceded to the frequent flickers of light humming mutely from Noctis’s phone. While he’d been careful to keep his attention on Regis while typing his replies, Noctis couldn’t suppress the glow of happiness the quick messages illuminated. Or contain how quickly he was prone to answering them.

Which drew Regis to his hypothesis: His son was in love.

He truly couldn’t guess as to whom with. He watched the way Noctis interacted with the three men he was closest with. Now that he knew there was something to be looking for, Regis found none of it between the four of them. With Ignis and Gladiolus, it was much of the same Regis had witnessed over the years. Scathing competition with Gladio and unyielding devotion with Ignis. The few times Regis caught sight of Noctis with Prompto around the Citadel, he never quite caught that lovestruck look on his son’s face again. He was more relaxed with Prompto, let down his guard a little more, but wasn’t in love with him.

Regis didn’t think it was Luna. Obtaining contact with her was a nigh on impossible task, even for him. If Noctis had found such an effortless way to reach her as through a simple text message, he would throttle his son for not sharing that information. Besides that, he didn’t think Noctis would withhold something of such import from him… But, then again, he didn’t think Noctis would withhold any sort of significant other from him.

After a brief crisis of wondering if he had really doomed his relationship with his son to the point of having him mistrust him enough not to share with him who he was dating, Regis went down the less self-loathing avenue of “Noct must have a reason.”

Did Noctis think it was someone Regis wouldn’t approve of? …Was Regis the only one that _didn’t_ know? Or was this a secret lover, kept from everyone? In which case, _why_? Was it someone dangerous? Was Noctis caught up in something like that juvenile drama the duchess of Accordo was always inviting him to watch about the two lovers on either side of a soap opera family feud?

No, it had to be someone he knew, Regis realized, hobbling throughout the halls of the Citadel with Clarus at his shoulder, reciting the itinerary of the day in his ear. Noctis didn’t like strangers. It was something he’d never grown out of and contributed to his discomfort during parties. Regis hated putting him through it, but admired the quietly charming way he managed to avoid the thick of the attention.

If his son was going to fall in love with anyone, it was going to be someone close to home. It was not going to be a royal dignitary he met once or twice at a gala he didn’t want to attend. It was going to be someone he could see every day, who had the opportunity to get to know him, and he to know them back. It had to be someone accessible, someone he could rely on to run to should he ever need to, someone that would hear him without judging him, and someone who wasn’t intimidated by his position as Prince of Lucis.

…Was he _certain_ it wasn’t one of his three friends? They were all accessible, open-minded, and familiar people. They cared for Noctis in a myriad of ways that were exclusive to themselves, and they seemed to care for him beyond the principle of their duties to him as their future king.

Regis clicked the backs of his teeth together on one of the rare occasions he got to see all four of them together at once and nope, it wasn’t any of them. He was certain of it. Noctis had no reason to be guarded with any of them, not enough to hide the look of love Regis had caught that night, and yet, it never showed itself again.

When he did figure it out, he could have laughed at how obvious and how so unobvious it was.

“You’re sending the glaive out again?”

Noctis was anxious and it wasn’t because of any nightmares this time around. He fiddled incessantly with his phone, unconsciously flipping it over and over again in his hands just to give them something to do. Regis raised a quizzical brow at him. Noctis had taken about as much interest in the Kingsglaive as he did Cup Noodles: good if you were starving, but not so great in excess.

“Just a standard border control op, clearing out some daemons encroaching on the east side.”

“Is it serious? Dangerous?”

Regis’s eyes narrowed, confused and curious as to the sudden interest until he connected the memory of how happy his phone messages made him to how fretfully the phone spun in his hands now.

“Not for the people I’ve assigned to it,” Regis said, very carefully, watching Noctis as he spoke. “I’ve put some of the best in the glaive to the task. They’ll make quick work of it. Between Altius, Lazarus, Ulric…”

“No expected casualties, then?”

“Not from our side, I don’t expect,” Regis assured him, tentatively tracing the lines of psychology as he went on. “I’m sure you’re familiar with all the talk about Nyx Ulric, correct? Self-proclaimed hero, proficient warp user, bit of a firecracker. He’s done excellent work for us in the past, I’m confident this mission will prove no different. And Crowe Altius is the most talented mage we have at our disposal, she’ll thin out the thick of whatever horde might be out there. If not with her magic than with a glare just as devastating, or so I’ve been told. Lazarus is fast with a knife…”

He made sure to ramble on well past when Noctis told him without saying a word which off the roster he was so enamored with. He stared at Regis, an imploring look, like he desperately wanted to tell him something, in his eyes… just before he stopped talking about Nyx Ulric. While Regis sung the praises of the rest of the glaives going out on the mission, Noctis’s eyes immediately shifted to the side, disinterested and thumbing absently at the screen of his phone.

_One of these things is not like the other…_

Regis stewed in the revelation well after Noctis had retired for the night, even though he looked just as bug-eyed and wrought with stress leaving as he did entering.

Nyx Ulric. Hero of the Kingsglaive and also the bane of it, if Commander Drautos’s complaint reports were anything to go by. Witty and wild, but wise with the weight of experience. Constantly on duty at the Citadel when not put out into the field. Harbored both a healthy respect and disdain for the Crown. Mouthy, rebellious, but disciplined and loyal. A little older than Regis might have guessed Noctis would lean towards, given his aversion to authority, but if Titus’s slow-moving anxiety attack was any indicator, Nyx had that in common with the prince.

…Well.

Noctis’s demeanor up until the day the glaive returned all but confirmed it for Regis. Any time he saw him, he was a bundle of nerves, his phone always in his hands and always restraining himself from dialing it. Nyx’s would be off anyway. The next time Regis saw him after the glaive were all safely back behind the Wall, it was like an avalanche had been cleared off of Noctis’s shoulders.

Short-lived once Regis got ahold of Nyx in his throne room. If he was gambling, he won the jackpot as the glaive’s proud face leeched of all color when Regis asked him, trying so, _so_ hard not to laugh, “How long have you been sleeping with my son?”


End file.
